


Into the Woods

by martialartist816



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dry Humping, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Slight Humor, ruren - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: Reaching behind himself, Soren removed his black cape. He took two larger steps to catch up with Runaan, draped the cloak over his shoulders, and fell back into his distance from before.Runaan tensed upon contact. He gripped the edge of it with his fingers, feeling the material.“What’s this for?”“Warmth, or whatever.”





	1. Chapter 1

His worldview was turned completely upside down when Claudia told him what exactly their father assigned her to do. Soren knew the kind of man their father was. Viren, for his entire life, had the kingdom’s best interests at heart, even if his means of protecting it were a little… extreme. He remembered what Viren hinted at when he was sent out to find the boys.

Tell the world the princes died. It was all subterfuge, and Soren was a terrible liar, but he figured he’d have enough time on the trip to come up with a believable story. The lie should have been the first clue. Maybe, for the first time, Viren was seduced by the potential power he could hold if he became king, and he would try to take the throne even through undiplomatic and illegal ways.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but hearing that Viren told Claudia to save the egg instead of her own brother leg-swept him from behind and sent the wind rushing out of his chest.

It wasn’t about protecting the kingdom. It wasn’t about protecting even his family. All Viren cared about was his own greed, and the realization hit Soren with a ton of bricks that left him gasping for breath and buried alive. It felt like a stab in the throat, and if he looked down the sword’s hilt, he would see only his father’s unsympathetic face staring back at him.

So he kicked his horse as hard as he could and flew down the path he and Claudia had just come from. Abandoning the mission their father sent them on, Soren assigned himself to a new one.

He didn’t know what to do once he got to the dungeon. He didn’t even think he’d make it this far. But Viren seemed to be nowhere in sight. The lair was empty, glowing menacingly from all the unnatural objects he and Claudia had been collecting over the years. Soren hated the sight of it, the implication of magic, causing him to growl in frustration and throw items from tables and shelves down onto the stone floor.

Viren wasn’t there, not to greet his children home, not even to answer for the betrayal that Soren felt so deeply in his chest. The lord has raised his first and only son to be brave, to be the knight that the whole kingdom could feel safe under, and yet he was gone, off stealing power that wasn’t his from the shadows like a coward.

Glass bottles shattered, and metal boxes clanged when they hit the floor. Once he started, Soren couldn’t stop trashing the place. An emotion swelled up in him that loved the feeling of destroying the things that Viren cared more about than his own son. If something didn’t break when it hit the ground, then Soren picked it up and made sure to render it useless with his own bare hands.

A glint of gold sparkled in the corner of his eye, and he picked up a bag of coins that had slipped open when it was flung across the room. It wasn’t like Viren to keep so much money around, and Soren was attracted to it because it was the only bright thing in the otherwise dank dungeon.

He held one coin between his thumb and forefinger, studying the face. He nearly dropped it, letting out a yelp, when he saw that it actually _was_ a face, the face of a living person, staring back at him.

“Who are you?” He asked the person.

Upon closer inspection, he found that the person was actually an elf. The same damned moonshadow elf that had slain the king.

“You,” he glowered, eyes narrowing.

The elf said nothing. His mouth moved like he tried saying words, but no sound came out of the tiny coin. He banged on his cage with a fist, expression wild and angry.

“When Claudia said we’d be keeping you for information, I didn’t think they’d put you somewhere you can’t talk.”

The elf made no more movements, only staring at Soren with a frown that matched his own.

“This is far from interrogation. It seems more like torture to me.”

Sky blue eyes shifted sideways, and Soren had all the confirmation he needed to know the elf was suffering at the hands of Viren. Not that Soren felt any sort of sympathy for the bloodthirsty elf, but in his boiling rage, they shared a common enemy.

“Given what I’ve learned about my father, I’m not at all surprised,” Soren mused out loud, bitterly.

The elf, predictably, had nothing to say.

“Is there a way to get you out of that coin?”

Finally proving his cooperativeness, the elf nodded and did his best to point. Soren followed the miniscule gesture and faced a pile of books that he’d ripped from the cases.

“Magic,” Soren stated flatly, feeling a little dumb, “of course it has to be magic.”

He tasked himself with flipping through the ancient pages of a large book, each side filled with ingredients and directions like some sort of grotesque recipe. He held the coin at an angle so the elf could see the spells, too.

“What exactly am I looking for?”

Soren glanced at the elf, who made a circular motion with one finger.

“You want me to turn around?”

The elf shook his head, then pointed to the book.

“You want me to… turn the book upside down?”

Another shake.

“Then what? You know, for a powerful mystical being, you sure weren’t very clever in getting yourself locked in there.”

The elf’s frown deepened, and he looked at Soren as if to say that he was going to kill him as soon as he was freed. But all he could do in the moment was repeat the circular motion with one hand and point at the book with his other.

Soren’s gaze flickered back to the pages, and he scanned up and down for something that matched the elf’s vague instructions.

“A Reverse Incantation?” Soren read aloud from the page, and the elf seemed to relax.

Soren read over the instructions of the spell. It didn’t look too complicated, just a few Draconic words to be spoken while holding the object that was cursed. He pursed his lips, tapping a finger on the paper in a moment of pause.

He hated magic, hated it more when he heard the truth about Viren. But this seemed like the best way to get revenge, by setting free the creature that his father apparently deemed worthy of keeping. He could swallow his pride just this once and say a few words. His anger still turned his vision red around the edges, and he resolved to use magic out of pure spite.

Clenching the coin in a tight fist, Soren took a steady breath and started the incantation. His finger dragged under the calligraphy to keep his place as he pronounced the words carefully and clearly. The coin began glowing, streaks of purple light shooting from between his fingers, and it grew hot against his palm. His heart rate spiked, part in fear and part in excitement at doing magic.

By the time he finished the spell, the coin had grown so hot he had to drop it. The glowing only intensified and got to the point where Soren raised an arm to cover his eyes from the blinding light. He heard a scream, faded at first but getting louder and louder until the voice sounded like it was in the same room.

As the light died, so did the scream, and Soren lowered his arm. He was met with the sight of the elf, shirtless, on his knees, and hunched forward. His breaths came out in pained panting, and his long white hair obscured his eyes from view.

From what Soren could see, he looked weak and bruised. So they had been torturing him…

“Elf,” Soren called. He decided too late that his voice sounded soft, so he cleared his throat and tried again in a deeper tone. “Elf. I’ve gotten you out, and now you’ll answer my questions.”

“Runaan,” he said, sounding hoarse but nonetheless laced with venom.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Runaan. And I answer to no one.”

Soren drew his sword and pointed it Runaan’s head. The elf clambered to his feet in a flash, but once up he winced and clutched his arm that was turning sickeningly purple.

“But I freed you.”

“I owe you nothing,” Runaan spat.

He made for the spiral staircase, taking weak steps. Soren rushed in front of him and held the sword up, standing tall because even hunched over, Runaan reached impressive height.

“You’re in no shape to make it out of this castle alive with guards at every corner,” Soren stated.

Runaan grimaced and stepped forward, heeding not even the silver glinting blade Soren threatened him with. He walked right into it, allowing the point to make contact with his throat.

“Either kill me,” he said with a low voice, “or get out of the way.”

“Um, neither.”

“You don’t get to make that choice.” Runaan’s hands balled into fists. His body coiled up, tense, like he he was ready to fight despite his condition.

Soren studied his face, eyes traveling over his clenched jaw, stiff neck, then down his bare shoulders and chest. He looked like he was skinnier than he should have been, skinnier than the last time Soren saw him. His tattooed skin was littered with fresh and old bruises. But he still held himself in a defensive stance. The elf didn’t care about his injuries, and he paid no mind to the death that greeted him at the point of the sword. Soren saw bravery in Runaan.

“I’m not going to kill you, and you’re not going up those stairs.” Soren moved the sword and pointed it toward some room in the corner. “We are going that way.”

“What are you hiding in there? And what is the ‘we’ you’re talking about?” Runaan’s eyes narrowed at Soren.

“ _That_ is the way to the secret tunnel, and _we_ are going to use it to escape off the castle grounds. Together.”

“Absolutely not,” Runaan huffed and stepped around Soren toward where the room with the secret tunnel.

“Absolutely,” Soren countered cleverly, following him with a swift pace.

“What business do you have helping me escape when you’re one of the humans who locked me down here in the first place?”

The room was smaller and darker than the main foyer in the center. Only a small writing desk sat against a plain wall, but Soren remembered that kicking one of the legs of the desk at an angle would open up a section of stone. Behind would reveal an entrance to the network of tunnels that ran through the castle and surrounding grounds.

“I’m not helping you escape. I’m joining you. My father has made it clear that he doesn’t care if I die, and once he finds out I released his prisoner, he’ll send the dogs after me in a heartbeat.”

Soren showed Runaan the secret entrance. When the opening wall stuttered to a halt, Runaan paused and half-turned to look at Soren.

“Your father, the egg thief,” he said. He was clutching his purple arm again, looking like he was hugging himself.

“I don’t want to be identified with the choices he made for his own selfish reasons.” Soren sheathed his sword as he spoke, and Runaan seemed to be genuinely considering his words.

When the elf said nothing, Soren took that as compliance, so he reached down to pick up the candle on the writing desk, but Runaan’s fingers on his wrist stopped him. Still without speaking, Runaan stepped into the tunnel and raised his good hand. From his palm poured a gentle white light that reminded Soren of the way the moon bathed everything in serenity, and then he remembered what kind of elf he was standing behind.

…

Soren’s knowledge of guard rotations and blind spots combined with Runaan’s ability to move in the night without being seen is what allowed them to escape in the first place. To one side of the castle was a sharp cliff, but the other side was backed with a wall that blocked out view of the massive forest just beyond the city.

Once inside the woods, Soren let Runaan take the lead. The elf moved between the trees like he belonged there, stepping lightly and not so much as even breaking a single twig. Soren, on the other hand, was clunkier. He blamed it on his bulky armor and naturally heavy footsteps. He did try to keep as quiet as possible, though, so just he wouldn’t disturb the peace that was the moonshadow elf swaying over the grass with his shoulders bathed in silver light from above. They never got to stop to grab supplies, so their only weapon was Soren’s sword, and their only clothes were what they already had, or didn’t have, on their backs.

Soren didn’t know what to do from there. He didn’t think this far ahead, and he wasn’t sure what his end goal was in releasing the elf and following him into the woods. Outside, surrounded by nature, calmed by the darkness, Soren felt his head clearing up. His anger washed away the further they got from the castle, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decisions that brought him out there. There was something about the woods, of course, during the night. Soren took a deep breath of fresh air in through his nose.

“Where are you going?” Soren asked when it became apparent to him that Runaan was walking with some purpose.

There was a beat, like Runaan didn’t want to answer, but he spoke up without turning to look at the man following behind him.

“To Xadia. I have to let my people know what’s happened here and that the egg is still alive.”

“Right, right, Xadia.” It occured to Soren that if he kept up with the elf like his was half-planning to do, he would cross the border and see what kind of fairytale land the elves came from. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“On my own, five days,” Runaan answered. “With you slowing me down, two weeks.”

“Ha Ha.” Soren rolled his eyes. “Seriously, it won’t really take that long, will it? I mean, once we find a town, we can borrow some horses, gallop off into the sunset, and be there by the weekend, right?”

“No towns,” Runaan clipped.

“What? Why not?”

“The humans will not take kindly to seeing the head knight travelling with a refugee moonshadow elf.”

At the title ‘head knight,’ Soren internally preened. His posture straightened itself up, even though Runaan was still not looking at him.

“Alright, so then I’ll just go into the town, and you can wait for me behind the treeline,” he supplied.

“No towns.”

“But then how will we get weapons? Food? _Clothes_?”

“I need neither weapons nor coverings to make this journey. As for food, I’m sure as a human you’re unused to living from the land, but I won’t be going hungry.” As if to prove his point, Runaan swept his hand over a bush while they walked past it. He plucked some bright red berries from it, not missing a single step, and popped one into his mouth. He ate half the handful unhurriedly and, without looking back, offered the rest that were in his palm to Soren.

Soren took them, figuring the berries weren’t poisonous based on how nonchalantly Runaan had eaten them. The flavor surprised him, light and sweet and not at all nature-tasting.

It was quiet for another long stretch of their walk. Despite the late hour, Soren didn’t feel tired yet. He passed the time by dragging his eyes along the network of purpleish tattoos on Runaan’s back. If he had to be honest with himself, he was a little mesmerized by the way they moved over the flexing and shifting of his muscles. Soren wondered if the tattoos meant anything, like representing the number of people he’d killed. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine, but not necessarily out of apprehension.

Reaching behind himself, Soren removed his black cape. He took two larger steps to catch up with Runaan, draped the cloak over his shoulders, and fell back into his distance from before.

Runaan tensed upon contact. He gripped the edge of it with his fingers, feeling the material.

“What’s this for?”

“Warmth, or whatever,” Soren mumbled. He could make up an excuse about protecting Runaan’s healing wounds from the elements, or not wanting to be jealous of his impressive build, or giving him the modesty he seemed to lack when it came to his body. In truth, he didn’t really know what made him do it. Maybe a little bit of everything.

Runaan looked like he was about to throw the thing off, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled the sides together in front of him like a blanket.

They found a clearing not too long after that, and Runaan was the one who suggested stopping for the night. Soren plopped himself on a stump and dreaded the thought of sleeping on the ground without so much as a sleep sack. At least it was still summer, and they weren’t in danger of hypothermia.

Wordlessly, Runaan circled the surrounding trees and gathered twigs in his arms. Soren watched him, transfixed as he set up a firepit with all the methodology and confidence of a busy bee. He made it look effortless, and before Soren knew it, they had a small kindling.

“I’m going to look for water,” Soren announced, apparently to the trees, because he got nothing in response from Runaan.

He wandered around in the dark, constantly checking to make sure the fire was still visible at all times. The last thing he needed was to get himself foolishly lost when it was so obvious that he would be relying on Runaan for survival in the woods. Hopefully he’d come across a small animal that he could capture and roast over the fire. Just because Runaan was content to eat nothing but berries didn’t mean Soren had to as well.

By some miracle, he found a small stream and drank from it. He had nothing that could serve as a basin to carry water back to their little camp, so he’d have to go back and point Runaan in the direction of the creek if he wanted water for himself. Once he had his fill, Soren marched toward the fire.

Before reaching the clearing, he heard footsteps that were way too heavy to be from an elf. There were sniffing sounds and an occasional grunt that could belong to nothing other than a large animal.

Creeping up slowly, Soren peeked from around a tree to find a massive bear-like creature rummaging around the clearing. It sniffed the ground, following some scent that lead him to the base of a wide tree trunk. The bear clawed at the bark and stood at its full, nightmarish height. At first, Soren thought it was just looking for food, which they had none of, but when he saw what exactly was hiding on a low branch on the tree, he realized the bear definitely found something it wanted to eat.

Runaan was trapped where he crouched on the branch, sneering at the creature but unable to do anything else about it. He had no weapons, and he was too small to take on such a beast. Soren pushed away from his hiding spot behind the tree and slowly approached the creature, keeping as quiet as possible. Runaan caught sight of him and shook his head vigorously.

Soren paid no mind, holding a finger to his lips as if to say ‘sit back and relax, I’ve got this.’

He only had it for about five seconds, though. When he pulled his sword from its sheath, the scraping metal alerted the bear to his presence. It gave up its attempt to get Runaan from the tree and turned around, slamming its mighty paws on the ground and growling.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, then raised his sword.

The bear stalked up to him and suddenly lunged to close the remaining distance between itself and its prey. Soren rolled to the side at the last second, getting to his feet and swatting hair away from his forehead with one hand.

“You fool!” he heard Runaan call from the tree.

“You call me the head knight and yet somehow don’t believe in my ability to protect a damsel in distress!” he yelled back, smirking.

When the bear lunged again, Soren was ready for it. He sidestepped the claws that came raining down and slashed at the animal’s leg. The blade made a cut that seemed to do nothing more than anger the creature. If he wanted to do any damage, Soren needed to hit the bear where it mattered.

He regrouped in the middle of the clearing, allowing himself a few extra moments to catch his breath and to steer the bear away from Runaan. With huge claws stomping on the ground, the bear charged at its easy target. Soren’s plan was to let the beast get close enough to stab it in the chest. He waited a heartbeat, a heartbeat, a heartbeat longer than he thought he needed to. If he missed his chance he was a goner. With excitement rushing blood against his eardrums, Soren yelled and raised his sword, but the bear went for his legs.

Soren’s feet left the ground. The bear had his ankle held tightly between its jaws, and it tossed Soren like he weighed nothing. His body hit the ground with a solid _thump_ , and with blurry vision he saw a flash of purple and white leap over him. With ringing ears and breathless lungs, Soren managed to sit up in time to see Runaan rushing at the creature and shoving it as hard as he could. He put himself between the bear and Soren, protecting him.

The bear stood on its hind legs and drew its arm back to swipe powerfully at Runaan. The elf held up his purple arm in defense, and he let out a weak cry when the animal’s paw made solid contact with him. Runaan crumbled in a heap, hissing, and the bear saw the chance to attack the weakened prey. Soren’s legs carried him before his brain even registered the danger. With the bear distracted, Soren thrust the sword into its neck, a gross fountain of blood splattering his arms and the grass in the aftermath.

The bear let out a whine before its legs gave out from underneath. It collapsed, dead, and the normal sound of the woods surrounded them.

Soren drew his sword back and cleaned it against a rock.

“You’re hurt,” he said, nodding to the three claw marks that ran violently down Runaan’s forearm.

“I’ll live,” Runaan said as he clutched the arm to his chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Soren guessed they wouldn’t have to worry about another predator like that for a while as long as they didn’t wander into some other monster’s territory. He felt safe briefly leaving the camp with Runaan if they were going to be only a few yards away. Runaan actually took the hand Soren offered him to stand but insisted on walking to the creek without support. He silently cleaned his wound and drank to stave off dehydration.

“What you did was foolish,” Runaan said after a long silent moment.

“What? Take on a bear?” From his position standing behind Runaan as he crouched by the water, Soren caught the glare that was thrown his way. “I like to think of it more as bravery, thank you.”

“You’re reckless, boy.”

“My name is Soren, by the way. And I’m not a boy. I’m a man.” He puffed out his chest to back up his words.

“Soren,” It was inappropriate the way his stomach fluttered at the sound of his name said with such a pretty accent and velvety smooth voice, “you would have died.”

“And so would you, if I hadn’t stepped in,” he pointed out. “So, based on this example, we actually need each other if we’re going to make it to Xadia. We’re, like, a team now. I guess.”

“At best, we are only enemies forced into a temporary truce.” Soren couldn’t see Runaan’s face, but he did note how his shoulders drew up.

“I’m not your enemy,” he tried.

“You are a human,” Runaan stated rather bitterly. “Your kind hates elves. Your father stole our precious prince, and he did it using the forces of dark magic.”

“I’m not my father, though! I’d think that saving you from being a prisoner _and_ bear food in the same day might make you believe me.”

Runaan stood and turned around. Where Soren expected to find anger, he saw only exhaustion and despondency. “You sound like…” He trailed off. Before Soren could ask him to finish the thought, Runaan brushed passed him and returned to their camp, prompting Soren to follow.

Runaan reclined against a fallen log, eyes toward the sky. Soren took it upon himself to make use of the dead animal that was laying in their clearing. He removed the bluish black fur with his sword and butchered the large chunks of meat that was waiting just below. Preserved, the steaks could hold them over for a whole week.

When he was done, Soren found a patch of dirt that looked somewhat softer than the hard ground and folded his hands on his stomach. He didn’t know what time it was, but the moon had crawled a significant distance in the sky.

“My father sent me on a mission to find our princes,” Soren said to bridge the long expanse of silence between them. “He told me that no matter what, I was supposed to return and tell the kingdom that they were dead. When I asked what to do if I found them alive, all he said was that he hoped I would know the right thing to do. I guess the right thing to do in his eyes was to kill them. But I didn’t want to. The princes are my friends. I care about them like family, and stuff, and it didn’t feel like the right thing to do in my gut.” He paused, listening to hear if Runaan had anything to say, whether it be calling him a fool again or telling him that his father was vile. He said nothing, however, so Soren finished. “I guess I finally learned how to do the right thing, even if that means going against the orders of the man who raised me.”

He glanced over at his companion. From his profile, Runaan wore a tight frown and held tension in his brow. Soren sighed and rolled over to face away from the elf and from the fire. He closed his eyes after a beat, and he heard a soft, sympathetic voice from behind.

“I believe you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the rating change hehehe

The boy was like Rayla. Passionate, energetic, headstrong, misguided. Runaan saw so much of the child in him. It made him miss Rayla even more, and it softened Runaan up to Soren’s presence. He truly felt bad for him, having to experience the heartbreak that was familial betrayal. As confused and angry as Soren was, he channeled everything into trying to sort out right from wrong, which Runaan respected.

He didn’t sleep, not on that first night. Dawn was only a few hours away, and they would be moving as soon as they were ready. Runaan lay awake on the tree log and watched the stars crawl across the sky. He glanced over at the sleeping Soren, who fidgeted fitfully like the teenager he was even while unconscious. Runaan thought about killing him. The pluses outweighed the minuses, in which Runaan’s journey would be much shorter without the added baggage, and it would satisfy some need to take revenge on the man who had stolen the dragon prince. A son for a son. But the son Runaan promised to take was not this one, and he had long given up hope of finding him even before being released from the coin. He accepted his fate that he would lose his arm for failing.

Soren had said that the princes were like family to him, and Runaan didn’t know how to make sense of the way that pained his spirit. He told himself he didn’t care for Soren, saw him only as an unfortunate travel companion to whom he owed a debt, but some empathetic part of himself didn’t want to cause the knight any more suffering than necessary.

Besides, Soren fell asleep with his sword at his hip. Runaan wouldn’t be able to take the weapon and assassinate him without waking him.

He caught himself staring at the sleeping form, still fully dressed in armor, save one cape that Runaan drew closer around his shoulders. The fabric smelled like fine silk and woods. On the ground, Soren shifted yet again in his sleep, kicking his leg out and wincing in the process. Runaan’s eyes glided over his body, down to his ankle, where a deep stain soaked into his pants.

The bear. That bite on his leg must have done more damage than Soren had let on, or even noticed.

Slipping from his perch, Runaan crept over to the human and examined the blood stain more closely. The bleeding must have stopped hours ago, which was a good sign that it wasn’t a serious wound. Runaan grasped Soren’s boot and carefully slid it off of his foot. Once it was out of the way, he used one hand to gently slide his pant leg up toward the knee, mindful of the bite marks. Soren only rolled onto his back, but made no indication of wakefulness.

A few shallow lacerations dotted his skin. Runaan’s fingers fluttered around the cuts. If he had his relics, Runaan would be able to heal Soren in less than a heartbeat. But he had nothing other than the woods around him, so he softly lowered Soren’s leg and stood to search for something useful in the area.

The best he could do was a Talumen leaf, whose long and broad foliage almost mimicked that of a bandage. Returning to the knight, Runaan wrapped the leaf around his ankle and began tying it off.

“S’that poison?”

Runaan lifted his head and was greeted with the sight of Soren blinking tiredly at him.

“Its nutrients are the best chance you have at fighting off infection. Your human immunities are unaccustomed to fighting disease.” Runaan watched as Soren sat up and inspected the makeshift bandage. Seemingly satisfied, he smiled and lowered his pant leg back into place.

“It’s cute that you worry about a little cut like that,” Soren said after an exaggerated yawn, “but I’ve been bitten by plenty of animals in my lifetime. And enough bites from one certain glow toad to _last_ me an entire lifetime.”

“You should have mentioned it before going to sleep,” Runaan said flatly.

“Like I said, I’ll be fine.” Soren stretched his arms over his head, which led Runaan to believe that he wasn’t going back to sleep after this.

“You were wincing in your sleep,” Runaan offered as an excuse for his concern.

“I mean, I’m a little tender,” Soren said through a lazy smile, leaning back on his hands.

Runaan lowered his gaze to his knees. “We will not be walking today. Take this time to let your leg recover, and we’ll continue the journey in the evening.” He prefered traveling at night anyway, for more reasons than the obvious. Walking was more tolerable under the moon rather than in the heat of the day, and they were less likely to run into trouble. Trouble, also known as human scouts looking for refugees such as themselves.

“If you say so. And, hey, that actually gives me the perfect chance to preserve some of the bear meat and make the best bear-jerky in all five kingdoms.” Soren jammed his thumb over to the direction of the animal carcass that he’d carved up before falling asleep. Runaan would have like to have forgotten about that thing. “You like jerky?”

“I don’t eat meat.” He got up, seeing how the conversation had taken a turn toward ridiculous, and went to sit on his log.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why not?” When Runaan glanced over to Soren, he was giving him a look of complete and utter despair.

“Elves believe that all lives are precious and sacred. We do not eat breathing things.”

“Ironic, coming from an assassin.”

Runaan bristled at that, shoulders drawing upwards. “We do not take the killing of any living creature lightly, even the lives of humans. As assassins, we kill only when necessary.”

Soren nodded, pretending to consider the words. “And the king was…”

“Necessary.”

“Mhmm.” Soren didn’t look like he believed him. “And all the guards in your path that you cut down?”

“Means to an end that I bound myself to.” Runaan held no foolish hope that Soren would come to understand. He knew if their places were switched, he would feel the exact same way. Right and wrong were not simply two sides of a coin; they belonged more in a labyrinth, with all the twists and turns and shadows and gray areas.

As they said, all is fair in love and war.

“I don’t hate you for it. Well, I hate that you did it, for sure. But I can’t bring myself to hate you as a person. Assassin’s code, honor, or whatever makes you feel like you have to get revenge on us.”

The words took Runaan by surprise. What Soren said was incredibly...intelligent and delicate. What’s more, Runaan was also blindsided by how relieved he felt to know Soren didn’t hate him. He found himself not hating the boy as well, and he thought about how differently he felt two days ago, when he believed all humans were selfish and brutish and stupid. Now, he saw that Soren has removed at least one of those qualities from the list.

“As a crown guard, I expect you know a great deal about honor,” Runaan said quietly.

“I’ve learned a thing or two. And one of those things is that honor isn’t some mountain that stays the same for centuries. It changes.” Soren stood, stretched his back with more pomp and circumstance than necessary, and strode over to the bear carcass.

“What are you doing?” Runaan asked, following him with his eyes.

Soren picked up one of the bearskin sacks he’d haphazardly made to store the meat and brought it to the fire, where embers were still glowing and sizzling.

“Making bacon.”

…

When the sun floated high in the sky, Runaan traced along through the nearby trees in search of something to eat. The most substantial meal he could find was a bushel of berries and some roots that would keep him full. He used Soren’s cape as a temporary basket to carry the spoils and looked around for a sharp rock. Once he found one that satisfied his needs, he used the edge of it as a blade peel the outer layers of the roots.

It was looking to be a decent lunch, and he wanted to bring the food back to their clearing to eat it in the comfort of his familiar tree log.

He followed the stream back toward camp, holding the cloak with his good arm. He knew he was getting close when he smelled the so-called bacon that Soren had made for breakfast. Runaan had to stop in his tracks, though, when he saw Soren’s sword, still in its sheath, laying propped up against a tree. Next to the sword was a pile of Soren’s clothes, armor and everything.

He didn’t know what to think of the findings, much less determine if fear was an appropriate response, but his eyes scanned the surrounding woods frantically for signs of the human.

The search ended immediately when Runaan spotted Soren in the middle of the stream, water up to his waist, hair wet and slicked backwards, face turned up toward the sky, and eyes serenely closed. His hands ran over his face and hair, cleaning lazily.

Sunlight streamed through the leaves above them, casting golden ripples that looked like water all over Soren’s bare body. He looked so at peace. Runaan thought rather amusedly that it was such a relaxing scene because Soren wasn’t talking.

Runaan was content with leaving Soren with his privacy, so he restarted on his path back to the clearing. Soren must have heard him walking this time because his eyes slid open, and he gave Runaan a sparkling smile.

“Please, don’t mind me. I was just on my way back.” Runaan picked up the pace, less comfortable looking at Soren when Soren was looking back.

“The water feels so good in the heat,” Soren drawled. “You should come try it.”

The suggestion of an invitation gave Runaan pause, and he glanced over his shoulder. “It wouldn’t bother you?”

Soren only beckoned him with one hand, and suddenly Runaan was rationalizing a bath because his hands _had_ gotten dirty while looking for food, and being shirtless since his imprisonment _had_ left his skin in a less than comely lately.

“Alright, one moment,” Runaan said, fighting off a smile. He placed his basket of food down next to Soren’s things, and his clothes quickly joined.

His first steps into the babbling water pulled a sigh from his throat. He walked closer to Soren where the deepest part would be, and the cool stream came just above his hips. His hands smoothed over the surface, and the pain in various places of his body were rapidly being forgotten. Reaching up, he took his hair out of its braid and let it get caught up in the current. He ran his fingers through it, slowly combing out any knots and allowing the water to clean him thoroughly.

“Nice, right?”

This time, Runaan couldn’t hold the smile back. “It is one of your better ideas.”

“I’m pretty good at this roughing-it-in-the-forest thing. You should have more faith in me.”

Runaan felt a hand that was not his own running through his hair. The action was so soothing that he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He only hummed in approval, remembering how lovely it felt to have another person touch him so gently.

“Why do you keep your hair so long? Are all elves like that?” For what seemed to be the first time, Soren’s tone when he spoke of elves was not of disgust or indifference, but pure, innocent curiosity.

“It’s just a personal preference.”

Soren made a noise of acknowledgement. “It’s pretty.”

“I don’t wear it long to be pretty,” Runaan pointed out, but Soren remained unswayed.

“I figured. Still is, though.” Both of Soren’s hands were brushing through the strands now. He gathered them up into three sections and started one large braid at the base of Runaan’s skull. Without prompting, Runaan handed off his tie when it was completed.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He reached behind himself, running his fingers over the smooth woven strands.

“My sister’s hair is long. Not as long as yours, of course. Or as pretty.” The way Soren smiled made Runaan realize he was waiting to get a rise out of him.

“Will you stop saying that,” he deadpanned. Soren giggled in response.

It jarred Runaan how beautiful Soren was in that moment. His smile was radiant, cheeks dusted with red. This same creature, who just yesterday on their walk, admitted he was surprised to see that elves had nipples--so annoying and ignorant even in Runaan’s best moods--was so startlingly gorgeous. Or perhaps it was just the setting and the fact that for the first time in a long time, Runaan felt something besides pain and fear.

He raised a hand out of the water and ran the backs of his knuckles around Soren’s cheek. The touch brought Soren back from his laughing fit, and he stilled his entire body. He didn’t reject Runaan though, even angled his head to the side to press his face into Runaan’s open palm. His jaw tilted upward and, whether consciously or otherwise, Runaan accepted to gesture, leaning down to close the distance between them.

It all came crashing down when Soren rested his hand on Runaan’s left bicep, and he let out a hiss of pain.

“What is it?” Soren asked, blinking his eyes open blearily and coming back to himself.

“My arm,” Runaan got out through gritted teeth and took a step away from Soren, eyes cast toward the water.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Soren put his hands up worriedly. “What happened? Does that explain the purpling? Is it a disease or something? _Is it contagious?_ ”

“It’s my binding that causes the discoloration.” Runaan caught Soren’s gaze flickering to the silver band around his arm.

“Why? Can’t we just rip it off?”

Runaan wasn’t keen on telling Soren the truth about his binding. He wouldn’t like hearing that Runaan swore to kill the prince along with the king, and not only that, he would go into a lecture about high-stakes promises, how trading a limb for an assassination was extreme and unnecessary and altogether horrific. Really, he’d known the human for only two days and he could already hear it. This was just another one of those things that Soren would never understand about moonshadow elves.

Runaan remembered what Soren said about the princes. _I care about them like family._  Runaan didn’t have the heart to say anything.

“It’s unbreakable.”

Soren was already moving toward the bank. “No, my sword--”

“You sword,” Runaan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, “will accomplish nothing.”

Soren frowned, eyes going from Runaan’s face back to his arm, staring like he could work some mental lockpick into releasing the bind. Runaan was grateful for the concern, despite it being fruitless.

“It won’t kill me,” he offered as if it would comfort the human.

“I just wish I could help,” Soren said feebly, pulled away from Runaan’s hand and heading toward their things.

As he exited the water, Runaan’s eyes dropped down to his ankle, where the Talumen leaf was still wrapped securely around his healing bite wounds.

…

Runaan shared his food with Soren during dinner, only after his insistence that he ‘never had wild carrots before.’

Since their bath, Soren had redressed in only his underclothes and forwent the armor for the night. His shirt was black with bronze trim around the collar, and the sleeves stopped in the middle of his bicep. He looked comfortable like that, and so much smaller without the armor. Soren had offered the shirt to Runaan, making some excuse that he’d been shirtless for long enough. Runaan promised that he didn’t need one, and he didn’t express the thought in his mind that the shirt would be too small anyway. That would only wound the poor knight’s ego.

Runaan didn’t sleep again, even when the sun went down. During the warm afternoon hours, he’d dozed off on a high branch of a nearby tree, and the rest left him awake and alert by nightfall.

Much like the night before, Runaan took to watching Soren as he slept. His lips pouted, dark eyelashes fluttering.

Never far away from him was his sword, perched on top of his armor. The chance Runaan had missed the previous night was suddenly no longer an obstacle. If he was going to kill the human, he had to do it now.

Runaan crept along the ground, making absolutely no noise. He took the sword from its resting spot and pulled it from the sheath, scowling at how the scraping noise sounded so much like a snake hiss. The weapon was heavy and bulky. Terrible for stealth.

His eyes darted over to Soren, who lay on his back for the moment. Runaan crawled over him and balanced himself with one knee on either side of Soren’s hips. He shifted underneath, causing Runaan to fear he was about to wake, but he only mumbled incomprehensibly and stretched his arms over his head.

Stealing a breath, Runaan bent down to bring himself face to face with the sleeping human. He held the sword so the tip pointed just under his chin. With a clenched jaw, Runaan waited for his target to become a faceless object so he could make the killing thrust without distraction. He had to distance himself from his feelings for Soren. He had to kill Soren in order to move on and hunt the princes. He had to kill Soren to release himself, and Rayla, from his binding promise. It was a necessity. A means to an end.

But Soren didn’t turn faceless. All Runaan saw were his strong brows and high cheekbones, his quivering mouth and messy hair. Frustrated, Runaan pushed the point of the sword against the soft skin of Soren’s throat. His knuckles around the handle turned white, and he urged his muscles to to push it forward just a little more.

Soren’s eyebrows furrowed, and he emitted a tired groan. He yawned, wiggled under Runaan, and opened his hazy, striking blue eyes.

“Somethin’s poking me,” he murmured.

Runaan said nothing, waiting for him to wake fully and realize what was happening.

Soren looked sleepily at Runaan’s face, registering that much, then let his gaze travel down to find the sharp end of his own weapon inches away from killing him. It produced no reaction, to Runaan’s surprise and torturous confusion. Soren looked at his face again, and in his eyes Runaan found clarity and no fear whatsoever.

“The moonlight. Ah, the clouds.” Soren inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, that fresh night air.”

Runaan felt the moon on his back, the breeze rustling his bangs. “You’re not afraid.”

“Oh, I’m afraid to die, alright. I just don’t think you’re going to kill me.”

Runaan’s frown deepened, and he leaned forward to hold both of Soren’s wrists in his grip, pressing them against the ground. It was his bad hand, though, so Soren could get out of the hold without trying.

“What if I told you that I have to?” Even before the words left this mouth, Runaan was hoping for some divine sign that proved him wrong.

“Wouldn’t believe you,” Soren stated, head lolling to the side as he watched Runaan’s face.

The sword thudded to the ground an instant later. Runaan’s newly freed hand flew up to hold Soren’s jaw as he indulged himself with a deep kiss. He didn’t waste time with formalities, either. The moment their lips touched, Runaan was tasting the inside of Soren’s mouth and stealing his breath. Soren moaned, the low rattle of it starting in his throat and ending in Runaan’s. He kept the grasp on Soren’s wrists, and he could feel the tendons flexing underneath this palm.

“Soren,” Runaan rumbled when he realized things were about to escalate even faster than they already had.

“Don’t stop,” Soren gasped, and that was all the permission Runaan needed.

He rolled his hips down, finding the hard line underneath Soren’s pants and lining it up with his own. The friction got him panting for breath, and he had to back away from the kiss to gasp against Soren’s glistening and reddened lips. He could feel his ears heating up, but that was no match for how adorably pink Soren’s entire face and neck had already gotten.

The human rolled up to meet Runaan’s thrusts, seeking out as much contact as possible and moaning lightly when he found it. Runaan released his grip on Soren’s arms and repositioned their legs for the best angle.

“Hold onto me,” he whispered into Soren’s ear before kissing under it and down his jaw.

Hands wrapped around his back, fingers splaying out over his tattoos before nails dug into the skin and dragged down. Runaan arched into the welcomed sting, pressing their chests together.

“Runaan,” Soren whined, sounding entirely new to this but also entirely enthusiastic. “I want you to touch me.”

Before that, Runaan sealed their lips together for a more controlled, intimate kiss. He let Soren taste him, slowing down his movements to increase the intensity of it all. When he established a rhythm, he slipped one hand under Soren’s shirt and traced over the skin of his stomach and chest. It was featherlight at first, but then he gradually switched to pressing harder, cupping his pec and rubbing purposefully over a nipple. The attention drove Soren wild.

The hands on his back moved down to boldly cup his backside. Soren pulled Runaan harder against him, hands squeezing, and the action drew a breathless gasp from both of them. Runaan liked the feeling of Soren taking possession of his body, and he communicated as much by pressing back into the touch.

Although he didn’t want to, Runaan pulled back from both the kiss and the warm cradle of Soren’s legs. He needed to make room for his hand, which abandoned the human’s chest and tugged at the waistband of his pants. It slid down just enough to expose him, and Runaan repeated it with his own pants.

They felt each other with no more restrictions between them. Soren’s jaw fell open, eyes still tightly shut, and Runaan wrapped his hand around them. Neither of them could last long after that. Soren spent himself first with a heaving chest, and Runaan followed a second after with a drawn-out groan.

Runaan rolled to the side and lay down, his head accidentally pillowed by Soren’s outstretched arm. He used the position to bring Runaan in for another kiss, this one slower and lazier and so much more meaningful than all the others so far.

“Let’s do that again sometime,” Soren said, smiling against his mouth. “But without the threat on my life next time, maybe.”

“I promise you,” Runaan began, “your life is precious and scared to me.” At that, Soren beamed. “But right now we must focus. Go clean yourself. We have a lot of walking to do.”

…

They were one day away from the border. Runaan had less and less time to find a way to get Soren into Xadia. His human status would make it hard to gain him access to the world of elves and dragons, but getting him there felt more and more important with each passing day.

Runaan began his journey with the singular need to tell his people that the dragon prince was still alive. The more time he spent with Soren, the more he understood about humans, and he came to believe that it was time for elves to change their preconceived notions about the race. Soren would act as their ally, promising to do what he could to re-right the wrongs of his father.

“Look at that little bird,” Soren said, pointing to the sky.

Flying toward them, with its body backdropped by the full moon, was a small red sparrow. Its color was bright and intense, and the closer it got, the more fluid its shape appeared. By the time it landed on Runaan’s waiting hand, he could see that its body was made of smoke.

A message.

Attached to the bird’s leg was a note from Rayla. In it, she briefly recounted her adventure with the princes and proudly announced that the dragon prince had been hatched. They were on their way to Xadia already. Rayla had the human princes with her, and she was confident that their presence in Xadia would be the spark that brought peace.

Looking at Soren, Runaan knew that the both of them would be there to help find that peace.

‘ _You should be very excited to meet him, Runaan. Did you know that dragon teeth can bite through anything? Even a binding oath._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's a crackship but let me have my fun
> 
> the almost-killing scene was totally [inspired by this](http://saccharinerose.tumblr.com/post/177665383691/i-didnt-exactly-plan-on-shipping-anything-before)
> 
> [chat me up on tumblr](http://regiaam.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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